Sisterly Scarf
by Innovia
Summary: Jonathan escapes from his father at the age of 12 and hides in a New York park, where he meets a sharp-tongued and clever girl with a very large scarf. Why can this mundane see him? Who could she be? oneshot.


**Title: The Sisterly Scarf  
Fan Fiction: The Mortal Instruments  
Rated: T  
Characters: Jonathan Christopher Morgenstern, Clarissa Fray  
Author: Innovia [www . innoviatopia . tumblr . com]**

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Still aching from the fresh whip wounds across the flesh of his back, Jonathan fell against a large tree trunk. He spat in the wind, watching as people walked by without giving him a second look. The _mendelin_ rune he drew beamed on his upper forearm. As Jonathan sunk to the ground, his vision faded in and out. He could feel a heavy wetness seep through his white cotton shirt. Looking down and placing a hand against his hip, he realized that he had sustained a small open cut which was bleeding. Almost like a reflex, he pulled himself up and grunted.

Quickly moving to a miserable tap near the opening between an alcove of trees, Jonathan hastily washed his bloodied hands with water and pulled off his shirt above his head. Applying splashes of cool water to his cut, he cringed as he cleaned it out, but he didn't mutter a word of complaint. It was just as his father, Valentine, had taught him—_obedience only grows from silence_. Jonathan knew never to show his pain to anyone, and especially never to Valentine. It would only result in more severe lashes, which was not a favourite father-son pastime bonding activity of Jonathan's, admittedly.

Once he turned off the tap, Jonathan tore at his shirt with his teeth and made a long strip of fabric to tie around his waist. Flicking his white hair from his eyes, Jonathan sauntered to an empty bench in the lonesome park, and trying his best to put up with the cold Winter breeze, he fell upon it with a gasp.

Jonathan was eager to try to remember what drew him to this particular place. He definitely knew it wasn't the green scenery. Although Jonathan could tell that humans did have an eye for nature and beauty, he himself did not share the same passion. He couldn't even begin to _think_ about appreciating nature. He just wouldn't know how.

So what drew him to this park all the way in sleepless New York?

Jonathan closed his eyes. By now, the sun was hiding behind stormy clouds. Having torn his shirt into a million threads, Jonathan no longer had much to keep him warm against the wind.

_Valentine is going to kill me_, he thought with a curl of his lip_. _

"You know, if you stay out here without a t-shirt on, you could catch a cold and die."

His eyes flew open.

A tiny girl with a big bundle of red curly hair and cheeks straddled with freckles stared at Jonathan with large eyes. Rarely anything ever caught Jonathan off guard—not even demons of the worst calibre—but somehow, this child, who wore large orange gloves and had fur balls hanging off the end of her boot's shoelaces, seemed to achieve exactly that.

Jonathan straightened himself and reached inside his jean's pockets, feeling for the Seraph blade sitting against his leg, and waited for her next move. Of course, she looked about 2 years younger than him—probably about 10—and was completely layered to the point that she waddled when she walked, but Jonathan knew from plenty of previous demon and downworlder hunts that appearances could be misleading.

But his cause of alarm was soon proved unnecessary.

The girl pursed her lips in irritation, and after taking a few intimidating steps forward, unwrapped the beige scarf around her neck and thrust it towards him.

Jonathan looked at it in confusion.

"Come on," the girl said, pressing the scarf against Jonathan's chest. "Take it."

Jonathan, in an instant, slapped the girl's hand away and jumped away from the bench. The scarf slipped from her little fingers and landed a few feet away on the concrete, but she kept her eyes purely on the boy.

Jonathan briefly glanced to his forearm. The _mendelin_ rune was still present—the rune that granted him invisibility to mundane eyes. So why could this girl see him?

"What are you?" Jonathan sneered, forming a grip around the hilt of his Seraph blade. Only, the longer he looked at the girl who stood calmly by the park bench, the more his grip loosened. He hadn't even drawn it out of his pocket yet.

Why was he hesitating?

"I'm an artist, duh."

The girl smiled brightly and held out her hands, removing one of her ugly orange gloves as if to prove that she was indeed an artist. Her left hand was covered in different colours of paint, Jonathan saw—

Well, either that, or warlock blood, he mused.

"Why can you see me?"

Jonathan decided to release his hold on his blade. The girl tugged on her hair.

"Because I can?" She slipped back on her glove. "Why aren't you wearing a shirt?" she asked.

Absentmindedly, Jonathan's hand came to his hip.

"Taking a stroll in the park is always better half naked."

"And your parents are okay with that?" the girl gasped.

Jonathan's lip curved into a grin. "Fortunately, I get the freedom to do what I want while in New York." That much was true. "How about you? Your parents know you've wandered off the beaten path?"

The girl flushed. "I'll return back afterwards."

Jonathan, rolling back his shoulders and noticing that his whip pains weren't as noticeable as before, laughed softly.

"You aren't the type to listen to what people say, hm?" For a moment, Jonathan's eyes flickered to his hand. "I suppose me neither."

After an unsteady moment of silence, Jonathan finally breathed out and began to walk back towards the bench. He slumped into it and watched with humour as the girl took an uncertain step back.

"Have you ever seen a demon, mundane?"

The girl's innocent face suddenly darkened.

"A demon?" she repeated. "No, of course not. And it's Clary."

"Then," Jonathan said, leaning into the bench. "Would you want to see one with me?" He briefly glanced over Clary's shoulder. "I know of a world, mundane. A world I can sense is meant for you. You can come, you know. Into my world. I'll show you all the fun things you never imagined were ever possible. You'll love it. I'll even be as so kind as to treat you like you were one of us, mundane. Like a—"

"_CLARISSA!"_

Jonathan's head perked up. He glanced around, almost sensing something fearfully direr approaching him ... a sickening feeling churned in his stomach, and if he hadn't caught a glimpse of her with his own eyes, he would have surely thought it was his wounds opening up again.

But no. It was something worse.

It was_ her._

Clary beamed.

"My mum's here!" Clary looked in the direction of the shouting voice, and before she darted off towards it, she quickly glanced about and picked up the beige scarf. Watching the girl with both terror and a weird sense of covetousness, Clary returned to Jonathan and gave him a small nudge with her gloved hand.

Jonathan looked down slowly to the scarf in her hand. Silently, he took it, and with a little departing smile, Clary ran off into the park to her mother. Instantly, Jonathan's hands clenched with anger, and after clutching a handful of the scarf, he ducked back into the cover of the trees beside the tap from before.

Listlessly, he watched as Clary, the little 10 year old who had seemed to interest Jonathan so much, walk hand in hand with her mother.

_With his mother._

Taking his eyes away from the passing two to the scarf he held in his hand, Jonathan slowly brought it to his neck and wrapped it around. He took in a deep breath, overwhelmed by the scent so new to him, and yet so familiar.

Burying his face into the soft fabric, Jonathan murmured, "Clarissa," feeling the name roll off his tongue. It was a name he had heard plenty of times while growing up from his father, but he had never really felt an attachment to it, just as one might say 'table' or 'chair' and would not feel any emotion to those words. But now ... _now_ he knew he felt something. Something he couldn't quite explain, something new and enticing ...

"It seems my escape _will_ be worthy of any punishment from him, after all, sister," Jonathan grinned.

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**This is my most favorite story that I've ever written actually, even if it is a oneshot. Review and tell me what you think, or follow me!**

Should I write more for TMI?


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